


A Heist to Remember

by orphan_account



Series: A Different Turn of Events [1]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-31
Updated: 2015-04-03
Packaged: 2018-03-20 14:23:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3653679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Fake AH Crew have formed. Their first big heist is before them. This is their story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Jack

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Fan Fiction ever so don't judge me. This is based off of the first GTA Heist that AH did and is the events prior, during and after the heist. I hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it. However I would like to make one thing clear. I am in no way, shape or form speaking of the real members of Rooster Teeth here. This story is about an alternate universe in which Grand Theft Auto is the reality. For that reason these characters, although look the same as their real life counterparts, are rather my own interpretations of their GTA lives. Anyway, enjoy.

“Well fuck” Jack looked around at his apartment, or rather what was his apartment. He silently watched on as three men significantly larger than himself carried his furniture out of the door. Jack was no small guy, but these men were truly something else. Within minutes of arrival they had completely emptied his apartment and came for the last thing: him. He threw a punch at one of them, but the guy didn’t even flinch, instead he just stood there and took the hit. An hour of beatings later they threw Jack into the gutter, covered in his own blood and wheezing in pain.

He stood, but just barely, using a nearby signpost as a stationary crutch. _Fuck what am I going to do now?_ Jack coughed up some blood. _Hospital I guess._ Before he had even moved a car skidded to a halt in front of him. A man in a skull mask and a leather jacket jumped out of the car and ran straight for Jack. Before he could even react there was a bag on his head and he was thrown into the car. Slipping in and out of consciousness, only one thing was clear. He hadn’t just been kidnapped; he had been targeted. At some point they had stopped and Jack’s hands had been tied, but he had no memory of such an event. After what felt like a lifetime, the car jut stopped. They had been going straight for sometime when the car just stopped. No turn, no deceleration. Just a handbrake. Jack was grabbed by his shirt and pulled out of the car, thrown onto the asphalt. The bag was lifted of his head and Jack squinted as the sun beat down upon him. He tried to lift his hands to shade his eyes, but they were tied behind his back. As his eyes adjusted he found himself looking down the barrel of a gun. The man with the mask was behind it, looking straight at him.  
“Adam, our mutual friend gives his regards.” _Adam? Who the fuck was Adam?_  
“Uhh…man mask person? My name is Jack.” The masked man lowered his gun for a second but quickly stiffened his aim.  
“Prove it.”  
“Back pocket. My drivers license is in my wallet.” Jack was surprisingly calm. He had nothing to lose or no one to mourn him. His death would go unnoticed. So as he sat there, he thought to himself, _I may as well try to get out of it_. The masked man reached into Jack’s pocket, but was greeted but nothing but lint.  
“There’s nothing here. I’m just touching your ass!” Jack laughed and reached with his tied hands. As the masked man pulled away, he grabbed his hand and using his body as leverage, sent the would-be murderer head over heels until he landed with a crunch behind him. Jack scrambled to get his arms in front of the attackers throat, and as he did, he stood, leaning forward slightly to counteract the inches he had on him. The man scrambled and swung wildly, hitting Jack in the chest. Jack winced but stood strong, determined to beat his kidnapper. The masked man reached into his pocket and whipped out a box cutter. Instead of going for Jack, he instead cut the rope asphyxiating him. He fell forward and landed on his knees, and at the same time Jack reached down and the claimed the gun as his. He spun and fired once into the masked man's leg, as if to prove that he was not only able to use it, but willing to. The masked man whipped his mask off to reveal a, well there was no other way he could describe it. A dad?  
"Fuck now I have a reason to kill you" the man spat, as he sat in defeat.  
"What's your name?"  
"Ryan"  
"Is it really Ryan?"  
"Jesus Christ yes you have a gun to my head, why wouldn't I tell you the truth?" "My name IS Jack, so please don't try and kill me anymore ok?" Jack knew all too well that looks can be deceiving, so he wanted to make sure that this Ryan character wouldn’t hold a grudge. He was mugged in an alleyway by a 20 year old kid a few days prior. Dumb kid was carrying a sniper rifle around like it was a peashooter. Kid ran off with the money he had just stolen from a businessman around the corner. _Karmas a bitch_ , Jack thought back then.  
“Jack look buddy. That car is manual. The way I see it is you have broken way too many bones to even operate that thing. And the state I found you in? No way you have anywhere to go back to. So how about this? I drive you to a friend of mine back in Los Santos. He patches you up. You leave. I find and kill Adam. Easy.” As much as he hated to admit it, Ryan had a point. If that car really was a manual he was fucked.  
“Fine. But please don’t kill me?”  
“Look I promise not to kill you. Keep the gun on me if it makes you feel an better.” Jack sighed; it was going to be a long and horribly awkward trip back.


	2. Ryan

_Two beards in one city? How was I supposed to know._  

Ryan sighed. As much as he hated to admit it, he loved the thrill of killing someone. He assumed it was a normal thing, but from the way people ran and screamed he slowly gathered it wasn't. After spending the first two decades of his life stealing and murdering his way across the country, he found himself at the end of the line in Los Santos. A hive of scum and lowlifes, it was almost as if Ryan had found his home. After a year or so of homelessness he was recruited into an organisation called "The Ten Little Roosters". The group, a the name suggests, was comprised of ten members. There were always new openings, and always someone waiting to fill their place. That's why Ryan's admission was particularly unique.The organisation technically had eleven members, with the final member being the recruiter. They would go out and find those who fit the description and encourage them to join up. It just so happened that the recruiter, a man by the name of Adam Ellis, saw Ryan grab a woman by the arm and drag her into an alley, and in the few seconds he lost sight of them, the woman's intestines were on the ground. He was hired there and then. Then Ryan began his life as an assassin, a job he was truly born to do. Then Adam quit and fucked with the wrong people, and then the hit came through. Ryan only met him the once, so all he had to go off was his beard. 

_I fucking hate this job._

What Ryan loved was the thrill of the chase and the random acts of aggression, not sitting in a hotel room with a sniper rifle waiting for the target to walk into his line of sight. So here he was. Driving back to the city of demons with a gun to his head. 

"Hey Jack wasn't it? This doctor we are meeting. There's actually two of them. And also they're not really doctors. They're fucking idiots if I'm honest but eventually they will get you patched up if they don't accidentally inject themselves with morphine as usual."

"Why do you trust these guys then? They sound fucking useless to be honest." 

"Who else is there?"

The car went silent. The freeway was becoming significantly more congested, meaning they were almost back into the city. It took them an hour of weaving in and out of back lanes to get to the place. Ryan had some fond memories from here. Those two doctors were idiots, but they were good company.

"We're here Jack." Ryan looked over and saw the gun was still in his face. "You can put that down now ok?"

"How do I know this isn't a set up?" Ryan thought for a moment and answered.

"You don't. Come on I will walk you inside."

The building itself needed to be demolished. The framework had rusted away and the bricks between them were riddled with insects and disease. The doors were wooden and would creak as you opened them. That was their version of a bell. The interior wasn't much better. A large portion of the roof had caved in completely blocking of a room and throwing debris across the the floor. The only sign of civilisation was a light at the end of the hallway stretching out in front of them. As they made their way down, sounds of someone screaming were heard. Ryan chuckled. 

"Whoever they have in there sounds like he is having a terrible time of it." They approached a set of double doors. "Just through here now Jack."

Ryan pushed the door open as was greeted by a gruesomely hilarious sight. On the table on the middle of the large room was a man with his chest cavity open, with not a single organ left inside. The surgical tools had been thrown across the room, leaving long stroke of blood on the floors and walls. Blood was still draining from the man leaving a thick puddle of blood beneath the table. following two streaks of blood you get to the surgeons themselves. They were on the ground in fits of laughter, covered in the poor mans blood. 

"Gavin. Michael." The doctors snapped their heads around to see the newcomers.

"Hey Ryan. Uhh, what do you need?"


	3. Michael

They had gone by many names in Los Santos. When they owned clubs in the city they were known as Mavin. After a little indiscretion involving a prostitute, 50 kilos of cocaine and a married man’s wedding ring, they happened to lose those clubs the local franchisee; a kid named Franklin Clinton who had been spending a significant amount of money on buying clubs. _Fucking capitalist pig,_ Michael had thought back then. Homeless, poor and angry, they turned to serious crime, making a serious profit from petty theft in Downtown Los Santos. Due to their signature move (that consisted of Gavin acting like a British tourist and Michael sticking dynamite to the poor people’s chests) they were known city wide as Team Nice Dynamite. But as all good things do this time spent raking in money had to end, as a kid they tried to steal from pulled out a pink revolver and put three rounds into Michael’s chest. Forced to perform surgery on his companion, Gavin found that being a surgeon was not as difficult as it seemed, and to Michael’s displeasure, they opened the Simulated Hospital for the Injured Troublemaker, which was really a crude effort on Gavin’s part to have their black market surgery called S.H.I.T.

The man they had been operating on didn’t need an operation at all. In fact, he was perfectly healthy. _That’s what sickens me the most,_ Michael thought. A few days prior a young girl in her early teens had come in, begging him for help. At first Michael ignored her, stating simply this wasn’t a place for children. After a brief back and forth like this, she screamed out the words that weighed heavily in Michael’s mind. “He raped me.” This girl was here, in a sketchy industrial estate, approaching a stranger with a wad of cash, all to make sure the baby that scum had put inside of her would never see the light of day. _It is better this way,_ Michael had thought while performing the surgery. As she was a leaving Michael had another thought. _Its better other ways too._ After pressing the girl for information, he tracked the paedophile down. He tied the man’s feet to the back of the car he had stolen moments before, and dragged him behind for a three mile trip. When Michael came back inside the hospital, Gavin didn’t even react. He merely donned his gloves and face mask, and was ready for what came next.

Michael frequently moonlighted as a vigilante, and although he knew it wouldn’t make a difference, knowing one less degenerate out there was enough for him. So as he ripped out the Man’s intestines, and waved them in front of his barely conscious face, he pulled down he mask and smiled; a smile of pure, unfiltered joy.

That was all there was too them. Two surgeons at the end of the world, with two visitors waiting patiently for their service. Michael stood up and gave them an elegant, albeit satirical, bow.

“Always a pleasure Ryan, glad to see a regular customer. Who’s this, your sugar daddy?” Jack gritted his teeth in anger, but before he could react properly, Ryan had already responded.

“Unfortunately not. If he was I might be able to afford a place to sleep.” Gavin, standing up, seemed shocked by the news Ryan was living rough. As he opened his mouth to speak, Ryan continued. “You see I was hired to kill a man named Adam; you remember Adam right?” The doctors nodded. “Well it turns out there are two guys with beards in this cesspool, and after a brief scrap in the desert, I have a bullet in my leg and he has a few broken bones, although I don’t think I was responsible for that.” Jack lowered his head slightly, agreeing with him. However one of the doctors was fixated on a simple fact.

“Hold on Ryan. Are you telling me that there is more than one beard in this city?” Michael tried to cut in but Gavin wouldn’t allow it. “TWO BEARDS. IN LOS SANTOS. TWO FECKING BEARDS. What a time to be alive!” After shaking his head, Michael spoke.

“You know I hate to admit it but Gavin has a point. The fact two people have that ugly ass beard sickens me to my fucking stomach.”

“Hey fuck you, I like my beard” Jack spat, grimacing with pain as he did. Michael chuckled and assured jack he was joking, before inviting him into the back room. _This Jack guy seems alright. I’ll patch him up at least._

“Wait here you two, Gavin and I are going to go get less covered in shit.”


End file.
